


Since Lily died

by confundedgryffindor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Depressed Harry, Depressed James, Depressing, Depression, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lily Evans Potter Dies, M/M, Minor Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, One Shot, Other, POC!Harry, Poc!James, Short One Shot, Triggers, everybody lives except lily, gratious use of the word fuck, this is really sad i'm sorry, unbetad we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 02:11:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16755889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confundedgryffindor/pseuds/confundedgryffindor
Summary: It was the eighth of November, and had been eight days. Eight days since Lily died. The love of his life, dead and never to come back. It was devastating, James didn’t want to move, he just wanted to cry and sleep. But he had a one year old to take care of, a one year old who had to be fed and lulled sleep, a one year old who needed nappy changes and baths and parents to play with. A one year old who now only had his father.A muggle AU in which Lily died of cancer and James isn't very good at coping.rated teen and up for lanuage and major character death





	Since Lily died

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this because i am a depressing fucker and i love making people suffer, sorry not sorry.  
> the timelines doesn't really make any sense, because it's an au and shit.  
> also, not that it's that relevant to the story, i made james indian in this one so him and harry are poc because i believe that that's hella canon  
> i hope you guys enjoy this nontheless!

It was the eighth of November, and it had been eight days. Eight days since Lily died. The love of his life, dead and never to come back. It was devastating, James didn’t want to move, he just wanted to cry and sleep. But he had a one year old to take care of, a one year old who had to be fed and lulled sleep, a one year old who needed nappy changes and baths and parents to play with. A one year old who now only had his father.  
James knew he had to get up, he had to take care of his son. But Harry reminded him too much of Lily, even though James and Harry shared the same dark skin tone and messy black hair, Harry had his mother’s eyes, and even such a small detail was too much. So James just remained in bed. He reckoned Sirius and Remus would help if he called them, but reaching for his phone felt like too much, as if his hand would crumble into dust if it touched the mobile phone on the nightstand. But Harry was important, so after a good five minutes he gave in and finally called Remus, who was more likely to pick up than Sirius.

***

It had been six years and two weeks since Lily died, and the hollow feeling in James’ chest was ever so present. He pushed through though, he cooked food for Harry, he walked him to school and he changed his clothes.  
Some days though, the hollow feeling took over and he had to call Sirius or Molly Weasley to pick Harry up so he didn’t have to see James in such state.  
Today it was Molly’s turn to babysit Harry and as they waited, he sat in James’ bed and held his hand.  
“I’m sorry, Harry. You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” James said, his voice raspy from a somewhat pathetic breakdown in the shower.  
“It’s okay, daddy. Y’know, even though I don’t remember her, I miss her too. It’s hard being the only boy without a mother, but I have Auntie Molly, and she’s almost as good as a mum. She’s better at cooking than you are, dad, except for her curry, your curry is the best,” Harry rambled on and on until Molly rung the doorbell, and it made James smile, hearing his boy talk about everything and nothing.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Prongslet. If I have the energy I might cook up some curry for you, I might even cook up some dessert,” he gave a weak smile and pulled Harry in for a hug. 

As soon as Harry was out the door, James sat down on the sofa and poured himself a whiskey that he downed way too quickly. And then another one, and another one, until his vision grew blurry and silent sobs escaped his lips. He poured one last glass and raised it, and through salty tears he whispered a very slurred; “To Lily, the love of my life.”

The next morning when James was slouched over the toilet, retching all of yesterday out of him, Sirius barged into the apartment with a worried look on his face. Sirius glanced around the flat, spotting the almost empty whiskey bottle on the sofa table at the same time as James retched again, followed by a loud groan. Sirius walked into the bathroom, and there was James, sitting against the wall opposite of the toilet with some sick still on his chin. He made no effort in opening his eyes, he reckoned that would make his already throbbing headache worse.  
“James, what the fuck is going on?” Sirius asked and crossed his arms over his chest.  
“Pads, do me a favour and don’t talk. Just bring me some ibuprofen and a glass of water, then we’ll talk,” James’ voice was as raspy as it had been the previous night.  
“You’ve got sick on your chin,” Sirius said and threw a piece of toilet paper at James before he made his was to the kitchen.

After about fifteen minutes, the two men were seated in the sofa, Sirius staring at James and James staring at the floor.  
“You’ve got to stop drinking, mate,” Sirius said, somewhat angry yet extremely worried.  
“I know,” James mumbled.  
“Harry’s already lost his mother, he can’t lose his father too, even if it’s just to alcoholism. And you certainly can’t just drop him off at our’s or Molly’s every time you drink. Moony and I have got Teddy to care of, and Molly has seven kids, Jamie. You’ve got to get a fucking grip on yourself,” tears started rolling down James’ cheeks when Sirius spoke. “I know it’s hard, Lily were our friend too, she was our _best _friend. And it’s the worst feeling ever that she’s not here, but you can’t just drown yourself in alcohol whenever it gets harder.”__  
A strange mix of anger and extreme sadness filled the hollow feeling in James’ chest and more tears rolled down his face.  
“Stop talking. Stop lecturing me as if you were my fucking mum. I know I’m fucking everything up, don’t rub it in my fucking face, you’re just making it worse,” he snapped.  
“No, you’re making things worse for _yourself _, get a fucking grip or I will personally drag you to the closest therapist so you can get some actual help,”__

_____ _

***

It had been thirteen years, fifty-one weeks and five days since Lily died, and James’ depression was rubbing onto Harry. But Harry seemed to get angry whereas James got empty, and Harry often stormed around the flat, kicking and punching every single item of furniture he passed until his father rushed over to him and pulled him into a hug, much to Harry’s dislike. He always struggled against James’ grip, until he finally gave in and sobbed against his chest. They learned to find comfort in each other, though. They drank tea in silence on days that were too much, James made kalakand, a traditional Indian cake that Harry loved, on days that were easier. Remus, Sirius and Teddy joined them every once in a while to play Scrabble, and Ron and Hermione seemed to be the only people Harry ever brought home.  
But as the days drew closer to the thirty-first of October, James found himself in bed, unable to move. He went up every four hours or so to pee and check on Harry, only to return to his bed, and it drove Harry insane.  
“Dad,” Harry stood in the doorway, looking at his father who was facing away from him. “Dad, get up,”  
“Not now, Prongslet… I’m tired,” James mumbled, his words muffled by the pillow. Harry stepped into the room.  
“Don’t you ‘Prongslet’ me, dad. You’ve been up once since I got home from school and you didn’t even say hi,” James sighed quietly. He felt horrible for not asking about Harry’s day or being present when he was supposed to be, this time was hard for him too. Yet James couldn’t find it in him to stand up and go to the kitchen and boil a kettle of tea or make a sandwich for Harry, he just remained in bed.  
“Dad, get up, please,” the pleading in Harry’s voice was almost masked by anger, but James heard it and his insides swirled with guilt. Harry stood there for about a minute, waiting and waiting but James couldn’t find any sort of willpower. Suddenly, Harry exploded, he let out a yell and kicked the bed so hard that James’ body rumbled a little.  
“Get the fuck up!” every word was enunciated by a kick to the bed. “Dad, get up!”  
Tears began to roll down both Harry’s and James’ faces, but James still couldn’t move, as if he was paralyzed by the hollowness in his chest.  
“Why can’t you just be fucking _normal _?!” Harry yelled and walked out of the room and sat down in the sofa. He picked up his phone from his pocket and called the only two people who could actually help in shitty situations like this.__

____

Remus and Sirius arrived less than fifteen minutes after Harry’s call, they didn’t even knock. Sirius just walked straight in and immediately went to James’ room, then came Remus who held Teddy’s hand. They both actually took the time to take their shoes off, and didn’t just ignore basic manners as Sirius had done.  
Harry was still sat on the sofa with his head in his hands and crying quietly.  
“Harry…” Remus whispered when he made it to the living room. He sat down next to Harry and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, Harry turned his face to Remus’ shoulder and cried into his sweatshirt, dampening the fabric. Teddy silently watched, biting his lip.  
“Teddy, would you please leave us alone? Harry isn’t feeling too well,” Remus said and patted Harry’s back soothingly.  
“I want to help,” Teddy frowned.  
“Draw him something. You already know where the things are, don’t you?” Remus smiled, Teddy nodded and went straight to the kitchen.  
Harry just sat there, leaning on Remus’ shoulder. He’d stopped crying but he didn’t want to move.  
“Harry, lad, would you like some tea? I reckon James could use some, as well as you,” Remus said. Harry pulled away and nodded slightly, tea did sound nice.  
“Dad won’t get out of bed, though,” Harry’s voice broke slightly in the middle of the sentence and he swallowed hard.  
“We’ll force him out, he will join us for tea or so help me God,” Remus muttered. 

It took Sirius twenty minutes to get James out of bed, but at last he joined his family in the kitchen. His son and chosen family were all sitting there, Teddy leaning across the table to show Harry his drawings and Remus on Teddy’s left. Sirius sat down next to Remus and James just stood there.  
“Sit down, dad,” it wasn’t a request, but a demand. A demand that almost made James flinch, but he sat down, not wanting Harry to lash out again. “Earl grey, ginger, rooibos or lemon?”  
“What?” James’ voice was low and raspy as it always were during his depressive episodes. As if he’d been sleeping for hours on end, but as if he hadn’t slept at all for days, both at the same time.  
“Which tea do you want? Earl grey, ginger, rooibos or lemon?” Harry repeated and poured his dad a cup or boiling water.  
“Oh, rooibos would be great, lad,” James replied and Harry put a bag of rooibos tea in the cup and then placed the cup in front of James.  
“I’m sorry I yelled at you, but you must understand that you’re not the only one who’s suffering,” Harry said and took out a post-it note from his pocket and handed it to James. It was a number, messily scrawled across in green crayon.  
“What’s this?” he asked and bit his lip.  
“I called some therapists with Remus when we were waiting for you, this woman specialises in widows and widowers, as well as kids who’s lost parents or siblings. You should call her, we could go together,” Harry replied and took a sip of tea.  
“I-I… I don’t know, Harry,”  
“Just do it, James. It’ll make things easier for the both of you,” Sirius sighed. James nodded and mumbled a ‘I’ll look into that, then,’ and then the conversation over. They sat and drank their tea in silence for a while, until Remus casually busted out the old, beaten up Scrabble.

“Oh, come on Sirius! You sneaky son of a bitch!” James exclaimed when they were on their second round and Sirius spelled out ‘axes’ on a triple word box. Sirius gave a smug grin.  
“Thirty-three points for Padfoot,” Remus said and wrote it down on the piece of paper in front of him. “And minus five for James because of his foul language with an eight year old present,”  
“Oh come on Moony, I curse around Harry all the time and he turned out fine,” James said and patted Harry on the back. “Didn’t you, Prongslet?”  
Harry cocked a brow. “Are you sure about that? I think you’re the only reason why I literally curse like a fucking sailor, dad,” James let out a over dramatised gasp and put his hand to his chest.  
“Harry, Teddy is still present so that’s minus five for you too,” Remus said and scribbled it down. Harry just let out a laugh.  
“I’m pretty sure I’m in the lead, so it’s okay,” he said. “I think I even can afford to say it again,” Harry placed out ‘Juarez’ on the board, right over a double word. “Fucking forty-four points, or thirty-nine, since it’s minus five for every curse word,”

James went to bed later than usual that night, with the Black-Lupin family staying the night. And he actually felt happy, happier than he ever could have imagine feeling two days before Lily’s death day. 

***

It had been twenty years and thirty-one weeks since Lily died, and James had finally started dating.  
Since Harry had moved in with Draco (Harry’s impossibly blond boyfriend), it had been lonely and quiet in the flat, so James had finally listened to his therapist’s recommendation and had gotten himself a girlfriend. Her name was Isabelle and she truly was beautiful. Her hair was brown and extended down her shoulders, she had fair skin and brown eyes, and soft facial features. And James, who once had vowed silently for himself not to be with anyone but Lily, could confidently say that he was falling for the woman.  
“You are not replacing Lily, James. You are just growing as a person and moving past her. But she will always be close to your heart, we both know that. But if you like Isabelle, you should let her grow with you,” That was what his therapist said, and James listened to those words and held them close to heart, especially when he doubted their relationship.  
Isabelle loved him and Harry, and she got along well with Sirius, Remus and Teddy. Though she admitted that she didn’t quite understand their Scrabble night, it wasn’t such a fun game after all.  
They fought sometimes, as well. Mainly about petty things, like when James hadn’t put the dishes in the dishwasher and left them at the table instead. Or when Isabelle had scattered the sofa table with candy wrappers and refused to clean up because ‘You didn’t fix the dishes, and I will not tidy this mess up until you do’. James often laughed about it later, because it truly was petty.  
But he was, finally, happy. 

***

It had been sixty-four years and forty-two weeks since Lily died. And today was the day of James’ funeral. His entire remaining family was sat in a church, crying silently.  
Sirius and Remus, both at the ripe age of eighty-five, the same age James had been when he died, sat side by side, and Teddy next to them. Harry didn’t cry, he simply sat there and held Draco’s hand. Their son patted Harry’s back, and Isabelle sat a few feet next to them, blowing her nose into a handkerchief.  
The Weasleys were there, with their spouses and own kids. A few of James’ other friends from school whom he hadn’t spoken to in years sat way in the back, only there to pay their respects.  
James’ death was obviously very sad and indeed tragic, and there was a foggy layer of numbness over the church. But James didn’t die young, like Lily, and his death wasn’t as tragic as one could imagine. He’d simply fallen asleep one night and didn’t wake up the next morning.  
Why he’d chosen to hold his funeral in a church was unbeknownst to Harry, since his father wasn’t religious in the very slightest. Sirius reckoned James just liked the aesthetic of churches,which was very reasonable.

After the priest had finished his speech, Harry walked up to the altar to say a few words himself. He took a deep breath and glanced around the church, smiling at familiar faces.  
“My father… He was a downright prat, I’m not gonna lie to you. He was stubborn and somewhat annoying most of the time, but I loved him, I still do. He was useless at times, when he didn’t get out of bed in the morning and I had to live with Molly or my dear uncles, but as soon as I came back he was there and he took care of me. I’m gonna miss him, alot. But one can only hope he’s in a better place,” a few people laughed and smiled at Harry’s words, some wiped away a few tears, even though Harry hadn’t really given the speech of the year. 

Harry was rather gloomy during the rest of the funeral, he was mainly around Sirius and Remus, and they talked about James through both tears and laughter. 

James would be greatly missed, there was no doubt about it. But hopefully he was in a better place, reunited with Lily at last.

**Author's Note:**

> no, i am not a scrabble nerd, i actually googled the scores for the scrabble segment because i like accuracy.  
> i also realized when i was like 1000 words in that i had totally forgotten about peter so let's just say that he joined a cult or something idk. i kinda feel bad for forgetting him bc he was a marauder too but whatcha gonna do ig
> 
> anywho, thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed!


End file.
